


Aesthetic Differences

by rw_eaden



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, Gender Related, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Wives (Good Omens), Inspired by Fanart, Making an Effort (Good Omens), Nonbinary Aziraphale (Good Omens), Nonbinary Crowley (Good Omens), Oral Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, She/Her Pronouns for Aziraphale (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:13:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21624319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rw_eaden/pseuds/rw_eaden
Summary: Aziraphale decides to try presenting as a woman for a little while, but there are some things she doesn't have experience with. Lucky for her, Crowley does.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 360





	Aesthetic Differences

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outoftheashes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outoftheashes/gifts).



> This was inspired by this SFW fan art because I thought it was really hot. My best friend also thought it was super hot so I decided to write porn of it for her and share it with you all. So please, enjoy.  
> (Also, I'm painfully not British so don't expect British terminology. I'd say I tried but this is PWP so who cares?)  
> Here's the [art](https://twitter.com/PatriziaCocco7/status/1193493310335262720), btw.

Aziraphale stands in front of the one mirror he has ever bothered to own fussing with his hair. He’s not usually the type to alter his appearance, not since he decided he’d rather be softer and rounder about the middle than Heaven considered standard. That was a decision he’d made several thousand years ago, and since then the wrappings might’ve been different, but he’s kept his body mostly the same. Now, though, he’s more than a little curious. Or, more accurately, he’s allowing himself to be curious. What would it be like to present the world with a more feminine visage? He’s only ever been a woman once and that was less being a woman and more sharing a body with a woman and besides, there were so many other things he had to worry about at the time. He hadn’t really had the chance to enjoy it. 

Aziraphale strips down, not before checking to make sure that the shop is closed and locked once more. Living with humans for the entirety of Earth’s existence does tend to give one habits and idiosyncrasies and modesty happens to be one of the ones he’s picked up. Who knows what the neighbors would say if customers came in to see him stark naked? Granted, that would be one way to keep them out of the shop. Maybe he should consider it. 

Regardless, this isn’t something he really wants to be walked in on for. He takes in the shape of himself, the soft rolls of his stomach and wide thighs. He’s going to keep those, for certain. He does focus on giving his chest a little more shape, actual breasts that are proportionate to the rest of him. He tapers his waist just a little, just enough to give him curves but not bordering on the near-impossible standard of a Gibson girl. Though, he wouldn’t mind the corset, actually. Perhaps he should go looking for one if he finds he likes this new shape. He focuses on his face next, softening the slope of his jaw and rounding out the cheeks just a little more, brightening the eyes and willing his brows into a more slender shape. The hair is the last thing to change. He’s never liked having longer hair. It was always too much fuss to keep untangled and clean, and he’s not sure if he’d like it anyway. He does let it grow out, though, just enough that it starts to pull the curls into gentle waves that tickle the tips of his ears. 

So there he stands, taking himself in. Well, not himself anymore. Herself. She should start thinking of herself in those terms if she’s a woman now. Though, she’s not, really. She’s not a woman any more than she is a man even if the rest of the world doesn’t quite seem to understand that. Still, it’s going to take a little getting used to, thinking of herself as a  _ her _ now. Regardless, she likes what she’s done. She feels even softer, more approachable, like this. She pads over to the couch where she’s set out the new clothes she bought for just the occasion. It’s nothing fancy, just a tan skirt and white blouse as she didn’t want to get too enthused with the changes. One big thing at a time, after all. 

The shop bell dings as she’s tying a scarf around her neck, finishing the look. She almost calls out that the shop is closed, but she’d locked it and there’s only one person it could be and she doesn’t want to give away her new state of being just yet. Hopefully, she’ll get to see her demon stutter and stumble through a compliment. There’s really nothing like it to boost her ego. 

Aziraphale is pretending to smooth out wrinkles in her skirt when she spots the aforementioned demon rounding the corner. Aziraphale has to bit her lip to keep from laughing at the utterly struck expression on her face, even with the glasses in place. She wobbles a little, jaw dropped open and hands flapping like the words she’s trying to say can be caught in the air. Aziraphale decides to have a little mercy. 

“Hello, Crowley,” she says. Woah. Her voice is a lot higher like this. She’s not sure if she likes that. 

“You - angel. Hi,” Crowley manages with some difficulty. 

Aziraphale turns around, hands crossed behind her back. Crowley hasn’t moved an inch but she has closed her mouth, at least. She’s in a dress today, a lovely strapless black number with a slit up the thigh. Her hair is down today, cascading over one shoulder showing off both her tattoo and her gold earrings. Her nails and lips are both shiny black, and, Aziraphale suspects, her eyes might be lined in black, too. As always, she’s dressed to kill. Aziraphale licks her lips. 

“You look ravishing today, my dear,” she says. 

“I look - you, you, you look. Aziraphale.” 

Aziraphale laughs. “Do you like it? I felt like trying something different today.” 

“Do I like it?” Crowley scoffs, finally slinking forward. She’s a good few centimeters taller like this, with her heels on. “You’re beautiful. Not that you’re not always beautiful, but you,” she swallows, reaching out to tuck a longer strand of hair behind Aziraphale’s ear, “it suits you.” 

Aziraphale takes hold of Crowley’s wrist, guiding her to set her hand on Aziraphale’s waist. “You think so?” 

Crowley nods very seriously, her fingers digging into the fabric of Aziraphale’s skirt. 

Aziraphale smiles to herself. Crowley is adorable when flustered and, if Aziraphale plays her cards right, she’ll get very grabby in a few minutes. 

“Did I do it correctly?” She asks. “I’ve never really attempted it before, you know. Are my breasts too big?” 

Crowley’s concentration shifts, directly to her chest. “No,” he voice cracks just a little, “no I’d say they’re proportional.” 

“Oh, well that’s good,” Aziraphale says. “Proportionality is important.” 

“Yup,” Crowley says, her tongue darting out just briefly. Where she’s licking her lips of tasting the air, Aziraphale isn’t sure. Either way bodes well for future proceedings, however. 

“I decided against a brassiere,” Aziraphale says. “They just look so uncomfortable. You know, I wish corsets were back in fashion. Those were always so lovely. Perhaps I should wear one of those instead. One like the little number you had on last week.” 

“L-last week? When we -” She rolls her free wrist, juggling her attention between Aziraphale’s chest and her face. “That one?” 

Aziraphale smiles and nods her head. “Though I imagine that’d get a few looks if I were to wear that in public.” 

Crowley’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead, her hand digging harder into Aziraphale’s waist. She doesn’t manage a response, though Aziraphale can see the gears turning in her head. The mix of shock and hopeless confusion brought on my more than a little lust. Poor thing already looks like she’s about to short circuit. Aziraphale really ought to be more merciful on her. 

But where’s the fun in that? 

Aziraphale rises up on her bare toes, pressing a tiny kiss to Crowley’s delightfully pink cheek. “Are you sure you like it? You’re awfully quiet,” she says. 

“What? Sorry. Sorry, I - I definitely like it. Really like it,” she says, putting both her hands on Aziraphale’s waist now. “You didn’t do this just for me, did you?” 

“Of course, not. I did it because I was curious.”

“Curious, eh?” 

Aziraphale shrugs and bats her eyelashes. “I wanted to know what it would… feel like, to be a woman for a while. To be treated like a lady. To have the equipment,” she says, leaning in so they’re just barely not touching. 

Crowley’s breath hitches. “All the equipment?” She asks. 

Aziraphale’s newly manifested sex starts to dampen between her thighs. She nods. “Mmhm.” One of the beautiful things about having a body you can alter at will. And, if you’re going to go for it, why not go all the way? 

The atmosphere shifts between them as Crowley presses their thighs together. Aziraphale’s suddenly a lot warmer in the cradle of her hips. 

“You know,” says Crowley, “the equipment is a little… less intuitive than your standard. Assuming, of course, you’ve switched it?” 

“I have.” 

“I could help you with that. Show you what you don’t know you’re missing.” She says. 

“I seem to recall that the last time you said that to a woman a lot of bad things happened,” Aziraphale says with a slight wiggle. 

“Lot of good things, too,” says Crowley, brushing her lips against Aziraphale’s cheek before pressing a tiny kiss to her neck just under her scarf. Aziraphale shivers. 

“Wicked creature,” she sighs, sliding her hands up Crowley’s nearly naked back. 

“Your wicked creature,” she says, nipping at Azirphale’s earlobe. 

Aziraphale hums, letting her hands wander down the expanse of Crowley’s warm skin until the low back of the dress stops her. She slides her hands down the silky material, over her lovely round bottom. “I’m sure it’s just aesthetic differences,” Aziraphale says, desperately trying to keep the breathy want out of her voice. “It can’t be all that different.” 

Crowley smiles against her skin. She loosens the knot of Aziraphale's scarf and tugs it down before dragging her teeth across Aziraphale’s pulse, never fulling biting but leaving the lingering threat there. “Are you willing to test that theory?” Her hands are sliding down Azriaphale’s hips, bunching up the skirt as they flow back upwards towards her waist. 

Aziraphale hums, drawing her nails up Crowley’s hips. They catch ever so slightly, and this time Crowley does bite down, pulling a pleasured gaps from Azriaphale’s lips. “Well…” Aziraphale drawls. 

“Hmm?” Crowley asks, laving her forked tongue over the tender bite mark she’s left. 

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” Aziraphale says, nuzzling into her beloved’s neck, seeking out the smoky musk of her perfume. 

Before she knows it, she’s spun around, one of Crowley’s arms tight around her waist as she’s face to face with her own startled expression staring back at her in the mirror. Crowley’s face is still buried in her neck, her mouth busy nipping and sucking the skin and making Aziraphale shudder. Crowley catches her eyes in the mirror, over the tops of her dark glasses. 

“Absolutely wicked,” Aziraphale says. 

Crowley slides her hands down Aziraphale's thighs, dragging the skirt up but she doesn't keep hold of it. She lets it fall again when her hand trail back down then drags it back up with her nails again and again, teasing. Aziraphale quivers, her center growing hot and damp. She shifts, leaning back more fully into Crowley's embrace so she can mirror the movement, stroking her beloved's hips. 

Crowley's breath is hot against her ear, the slight hiss of it slither down Aziraphale's spine. It's easy to forget sometimes that Crowley  _ is  _ a predator, unlike so many other demons. She isn't some common garden pest or even just a snake, no, she's a serpent.  _ The _ serpent and she could devour Aziraphale if she wanted. Aziraphale sort of hopes she will. She can't say as she'd mind being on the receiving end of that hungry mouth, that clever tongue. 

Aziraphale jumps at the first touch of Crowley's long fingers against her panties. 

"Someone's excited," she says, nuzzling against Aziraphale's shoulder. 

"You startled me, is all." A lie, of course. They can both feel the wet spot between her legs now. 

Crowley's hands disappear from her waist and Aziraphale doesn't have time to be upset before they're at her back, drawing the zip down. It takes a little wiggling, but it's off and no sooner does it hit the floor than do Crowley's hands find their way under her white panties, digging into the globes of Aziraphale's ass. 

Aziraphale leans into it, biting her lip to keep the whimpers at bay. She leans her head back, seeking Crowley's lips. It's awkward at this angle, Crowley not bothering to let go as she slides her hands around to knees Aziraphale's ample hips. The fact that her glasses are still on and digging into Aziraphale's cheek isn't helping either. But it's good. It's always good. Crowley always tastes the same, regardless of wine or wax lipstick, always sweet and a little smokey under it all. Kissing, Aziraphale finds, is the same, regardless of their bodily configurations. 

Crowley flicks her tongue against the back of Aziraphale's teeth, causing her to whine and nearly lose control of her knees. They break away, though just barely. "Darling," she says, "the couch?" 

Crowley stands up straighter, pushing her glasses up and into her hair. "No," she says, "you wanted instruction, didn't you?" She takes Aziraphale's chin in her hand, drawing her attention back to the mirror and her utterly debauched expression. "So pay attention, yes?" 

Aziraphale nods, keeping still as Crowley's hand drags down her neck and begins undoing the buttons on her blouse. She stops halfway down, sinking both hands into her open shirt, squeezing Aziraphale's breasts. Aziraphale gasps again, leaning into this, too. 

"Lovely," Crowley says, catching a nipple between her fingers and pinching. "I'm going to have to suck on these later," she says. 

Aziraphale gulps. "Not now?" She asks. 

Crowley laughs. "You little tart," she says, leaving a black branded kiss against her temple before pinching the nipple again. 

"Be nice," Aziraphale says. 

"Never," says Crowley, scraping her nails across the tender flesh before drawing her hands away completely, taking a step back.

Aziraphale has half a mind to turn around and argue before she watches Crowley's dress fall to the floor, followed by her bralette. Aziraphale doesn't get the chance to see her before she can feel Crowley's hard nipples pressed into her back. She then guides Aziraphale's panties down and off, and there's more wiggling to get them off her thighs. Aziraphale spreads her legs as far as she can without getting tangled in her skirt. 

Crowley hums, eyes closed as she slides her hand through the soft nest of curls just above Aziraphale's sex. "You've never had one of these before, you said?" She asks. 

"That's what I said."

"Did you play with it before I came over?" She asks. 

"No." 

Crowley shudders, crowding closer, arm tight around Aziraphale's waist. Aziraphale sighs as Crowley slides through her slick, two fingers pressed in a vee on either side of Aziraphale's lips. "Not even a little?" She asks, her voice a breathy whisper.

Aziraphale shakes her head, unable to speak. It's just a little touch but it's more than she's prepared for. She's wet and aching, squirming a little as Crowley rubs against her lips too gently to be anything but a tease. Crowley's fingers drag slow, coming together over her center, drawing slick up and over the swollen nub of her clit. Aziraphale grunts, bucking her hips to follow but she's not quick enough. 

"Look at you," Crowley laughs before sucking on her own fingers. "Naughty girl." 

Aziraphale does look at herself. She’s mostly naked, pink down her chest, eyes a little glazed over and mouth open, panting. Her center is wet, lips swollen, a little trail of slick on the inside of her thigh. She looks a mess, but she’s an attractive mess, if she says so herself. Crowley certainly doesn’t seem to mind. She squeezes her legs together, to relieve some of the ache. It’s not nearly enough, though. 

“Can you blame me?” Aziraphale asks, dragging her nails down Crowley’s arm. “I need you,” she almost whines. 

Crowley nips her neck again. “Fingers or tongue?” 

More warmth drops down her spine as she considers. While it’s wonderful to be pressed against her lover and feel surrounded, she’s never quite forgotten the strange things Crowley can do with her tongue. Once, she watched her uncork a bottle of wine without touching it. 

“Tongue,” Aziraphale gasps. “Definitely tongue.” 

Crowley laughs, slipping around in front of Aziraphale and dropping to her knees before Aziraphale can even get a good look at her. Though it’s not like she’d really be able to focus all that much, she’s too wound up. 

Crowley settles down on her haunches, drawing one of Aziraphale’s legs up to rest over her shoulder and steadying her on the other. She brushes her hair back, grabs onto Azirapahle’s hips, and flickers her tongue against Azriaphale’s quaking thigh. She takes her time leaving kisses and licks up the flesh before finally reaching her destination and, mimicking her earlier touch, licks up Aziraphale’s center, one forked end of her tongue against each of Azriaphale’s lips. 

Aziraphale whimpers, settling her hair in Crowley’s silky hair as she teases, staying away from Aziraphale’s clit and just barely parting her folds on every few passes. “Darling, please,” she says, trying to focus on not panting. She catches Crowley’s eyes and though she can’t see the smirk she knows it’s there when that damned tongue slides across her clit, sending a sharp thrill through her lower body. “Don’t tease me,” Aziraphale groans. 

She’s not proud of the undignified little squeak she makes when Crowley’s tongue finally,  _ finally _ breeches her, curling against her as it does. Crowley holds her firm, nails digging into her hips to keep her steady and upright as she starts fucking her with her tongue. She draws in and out, slurping as she does, pulling back to suck on Aziraphale’s pulp lips before diving back in curling against a wonderfully tender spot that could make Aziraphale’s knees give out if she’s not careful. 

“ _ Oh _ ,” Aziraphale moans, “that’s - keep doing that.” She runs her fingers through Crowley’s hair, drawing a moan from her lover’s lips. The sound vibrates against her own flesh, and she shudders again. That wicked tongue inside her feels so much better than she expected, teasing and drawing pleasure out from deep inside her. Crowley seems to be enjoying it, too, if the way she’s working her jaw and groaning means anything. 

It’s lovely, but it’s not entirely enough. She squirms, angling for more when Crowley draws back and sucks her clit into her mouth. Aziraphale groans, throwing her head back and digging nails into Crowley’s scalp. She whines, and the feeling of it nearly makes Aziraphale double over. She finally takes a look at the two of them in the mirror, and oh, the scene they make. Crowley on her knees face pressed into Aziraphale’s pussy, Aziraphale’s knuckles gone white in her crimson hair, her thighs trembling around Crowley’s head. 

“You should see us,” Aziraphale says, “you look so good one your knees.” 

Crowley hums, sucking harder at her clit. Aziraphale moans. 

“You should stay like this, forever. Until you drown,” Aziraphale groans. Crowley’s nails dig harder into her flesh, leaving indents, no doubt. Aziraphale starts to shift her hips, unconsciously at first, but it’s too good to stop when she notices. Her pussy aches, desperate for more, the tension rising higher in her legs and hips. Crowley doesn’t seem to mind anyway. She’s leaving her tongue pressed flat against Aziraphale’s clit, letting her determine the pressure and the speed. 

They keep up like that until they can’t anymore. Aziraphale is so close she can’t control her hips, she  _ wants _ , oh how badly she wants to, but she’s so close she’s shaking and it takes too much concentration to not fall over. Crowley, however, is free to keep her lips wrapped around Aziraphale’s clit, sucking with steady pressure until Aziraphale lets out a sharp moan and doubles over, pressing her lover tighter between her legs as her pussy quivers. 

She finally straightens, letting go of her death grip on Crowley’s head and setting her one leg down, feeling not unlike a newborn deer. 

“How’s that for aesthetic differences?” Crowley asks. She’s got slick down her neck, her chest as pink as Aziraphale's. 

Aziraphale shakes her head, sitting down on the couch. “Can’t talk,” she says. Her heart is racing and she can’t quite catch her breath yet. 

Crowley, ever the cocky bastard she is, flops down on the couch next to her, sprawling so that Aziraphale can see the soaked center of her own panties. And of course, Aziraphale can’t resist that. She’s never been able to resist when it comes to Crowley. 

She pouches, still not completely recovered herself, and stretches out over Crowley’s reclining body. She doesn’t wait, shoving her hand down Crowley’s pink panties, groaning when her fingers meet the absolutely drenched folds. 

“Aziraphale!” Crowley gasps, half-surprised, half-pleased. 

Aziraphale wastes no time sinking into her, thrusting two fingers in and out as much as the fabric will allow. Crowley grabs a fistful of her shirt and hangs on, moaning and exposing her throat for bites and kisses. 

Aziraphale presses her palm against Crowley’s clit, dragging across it with every thrust of her fingers. 

“Fuck!” Crowley gasps, wiggling and wrapping her legs around Aziraphale’s hips. “Angel, I won’t last,” she says, breathy and high pitched towards the end. 

“That doesn’t matter with these sorts of Efforts,” she says with a sharp smile. “As you know from experience,” she adds. They’ve gone for hours when Crowley was the only one with this kind of sex, Azriaphale drawing orgasm after orgasm from her until body parts went numb from lack of movement. 

“Fuck,” she whines, “you’re a monster.” She bites down onto her shoulder, whining. 

“Your monster,” she says, speeding her thrusts until Crowley’s whole body tenses, her warm pussy clenching around Aziraphale’s fingers before spasming, her moans sounding painful sounding. 

Aziraphale sits up, licking the slick off her fingers. Crowley huffs, throwing her arm over her eyes as she attempts to regain composure. “So I take it - take it you like the - er, equipment?” She says after a while. 

Aziraphale hums. “Not sure yet. Might require a few more tests,” she says. 

Crowley groans. “Definitely a monster.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr](https://rosemoonweaver.tumblr.com/)! Feel free to say hi if you want.


End file.
